


Not in the Plan

by nontoxic



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Fluff, M/M, presidential au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 20:01:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2519966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nontoxic/pseuds/nontoxic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is crazy. This is absolutely crazy, how the fuck did this happen?!</p><p>Okay, yeah, law school and then local politics and then the Senate seat, but still.</p><p>He’s the fucking President of the United States and he’s not even forty years old.</p><p>His life is fucking awesome.</p><p> </p><p>aka the Presidential AU no one asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not in the Plan

This is crazy. This is _crazy,_ how the fuck did this happen?!

Okay, yeah, law school and then local politics and then the Senate seat, but _still._

He’s the _fucking President of the United States_ and he’s not even forty years old.

His life is fucking _awesome._

“Mr. President?”

A knock on the door interrupts his reverie. “Yes, come in?”

His personal guard, a nice man named Gibbins, pokes his head in. “Agents from the CIA are here for your briefing.”

“Oh, right. Send them in.”

Gibbins steps aside, letting two people into the office before closing the door and standing guard in the hallway.

“Hello, Mr. President, it’s an honor to meet you. We’ve just come to update you on the situation in Syria.”

Connor hardly even noticed the girl before she started speaking, he was too busy staring at the seriously hot guy trailing her, trying to look inconspicuous. That suit was tailored perfectly and all he wanted right now was to see if the man’s thighs were as delectable and toned as they looked in those pants.

“Sorry? Oh, yes, of course. Give me a moment.”

He pretends to put away some papers on his desk while thinking, “ _nakedgrandmasnakedgrandmasnakedgrandmas._ ” He really needed to get over the playboy thing now. His career, this _country,_ couldn’t stand a scandalously slutty gay President.

He motions for them to sit across the desk from him, and the young woman begins to explain the intel they’ve gathered from spies on the ground. Connor listens because it’s his job and he _loves_ this. But he’d be lying if he said the nervous man across from him wasn’t at least a little distracting.

She finishes and turns to the other man expectantly. Connor isn’t expected to respond; their job is to relay information that he can use to make decisions later. He doesn’t have to share his intentions or interpretations with them.

“Oliver?” She prompts. “You’re up.”

The man - _Oliver_ \- looks up, surprised he’s being allowed to speak. “R-right. Um. Mr. President, I uh, see, we hacked into their mainframe and finally cracked their military code using a rather rudimentary extractor with some slight modifications to the–“

“For as much as I love the attention to detail, I really have no idea what you’re saying, so if you could just relay the intel, that would be sufficient.” _Shit._ He didn’t mean to be a dick. He hates feeling dumb and right now, this guy was running circles around him.

“Oh, yes, of course. Um.” He fidgets with his computer before opening it and showing Connor what he’s gathered.

“Thank you both. This has been extremely helpful. Tell the other agents at the CIA that I appreciate all their efforts, as well.”

“Of course, Mr. President,” The young woman, Laurel, Connor believes he heard Oliver call her during their session, extends her hand, before ushering Oliver out. Oliver just gives him a small wave and an awkward smile before Gibbins closes the door behind them.

_Oh, fuck._

\- - -

He’s pulled away from a gala to meet with Laurel and Oliver in his office a month later, citing an emergency situation with CIA officials.

Oliver is even more fidgety this time. Laurel quickly explains that one of their friends, Agent Pratt, is involved and they’ve yet to get any intel on her.

It takes every ounce of willpower Connor has not to declare war right now to get her out and get Oliver to smile again.

He _needs_ to fuck this guy and get it out of his system.

\- - -

Two weeks later, they meet again regarding a threat on a US Embassy. When they’ve relayed their information, Connor asks how Agent Pratt is. Laurel gladly informs him that she’s home now, though still on leave to heal from the injuries she sustained on assignment. Connor tells her to relay his well-wishes to Pratt. Oliver looks at him like he hung the moon, and for the first time in his entire adult life, Connor gets butterflies in his stomach.

_Fucking **fuck.**_

\- - -

Connor mostly meets with Laurel now. They exchange notes daily, and Oliver will come about once a month to explain hacking and cracking efforts.

Laurel tells him one week that Oliver is on assignment, infiltrating a potential threat in the field.

“Excuse me, Castillo?”

“He volunteered for the position. We needed someone that could convince them they’re a hacker. We created an airtight identity for him so when he needs extraction, they wont be able to find him.” She hesitates a moment, before she reaches over and squeezes Connor’s arm, sensing his worry. “He’s smart. He’ll be fine.”

Laurel stands to leave, but just before she opens the door, Connor calls out to her. “Castillo. Just…”

“He’ll be fine, Mr. President.”

Connor nods. “Please keep me updated on his situation.”

“Of course.”

“Laurel,” he calls as she reaches for the door handle. She turns again, surprised. “Seriously. I need to know that…”

“I will send word to you with every update, Mr. President. I swear it.”

“Thank you.” He straightens his posture and buttons his suit coat before dismissing her. “That will be fine, Castillo.”

\- - -

Oliver is back only weeks later, and he has no bruises as far as Connor can see. He updates him on the intel he gathered, before explaining that Connor will continue to meet mostly with Laurel as he continues trying to hack this group from the outside.

When their meeting is over, Connor doesn’t voice his relief to see him again.

\- - -

One day, several months into his Presidency, it’s just Oliver when Gibbins opens the door for his intelligence meeting.

“Where’s Laurel?”

Oliver seems offended. “She’s sick, and no one else has the clearance. Shall we?”

Connor raises an eyebrow at the man. Well, now. _This_ is interesting. He somehow finds this new, assertive Oliver even more attractive.

“Sorry, that was out of line. I apologize, Mr. President. It’s stress.”

“Don’t worry about it. Assertiveness suits you.” Oliver blushes, and Connor goes for the kill, because really, this is getting ridiculous. “You should really find ways to… relieve your stress.”

Oliver ducks his head. “So the intel we’ve gathered…”

Not today, then. That’s fine.

\- - -

Laurel is out for a week, and Connor meets with Oliver every day. It quickly becomes clear that Oliver finds him attractive, and he begins to learn little things about Oliver.

Like that he takes his coffee with sugar, no cream. That he likes bagels more than donuts. That he built his own computer to make sure it couldn’t be hacked. That he rarely wears suits, but his pants are so well-tailored that it becomes an actual effort to not stare at his ass.

He also learns that Oliver is attracted to him, which becomes clear when Connor drops his pen, and hears Oliver make a choked noise when he bends to get it, though he quickly tries to cover it with a cough.

This is great news.

\- - -

It’s Friday and Connor is as off-the-clock as the President of the Unites States of America can be. He’s trying to drink a beer and watch his DVR, but he can’t figure out which remote to use.

So he has Gibbins call Oliver.

“Mr. President, sorry it took so long, I had to grab my laptop, I didn’t know what the emergency was, I didn’t-“

He stops when he finally looks up and sees Connor in track pants, slung low on his hips, and a tight tank top.

He gulps. “Mr. President?”

“I’m sorry, I know this isn’t your job but I can’t figure this thing out at all. Will you please help?”

Oliver shakes his head, but drops his bag. “Night off?”

Connor watches as he quickly turns on the TV and switches to the recorded list, and hands the remote back. “Yeah. I mean, I still have my phone if there’s an emergency.”

“Must suck.” Oliver glances at the TV, and sees the list is full of his favorite sitcom. “Hey, I love this show!”

God, Connor couldn’t have _planned_ this any better. “Do you wanna stay?”

Oliver gapes at him for a moment, before replying with a shake of his head, “I couldn’t. I uh. I mean, I don’t want to impose on your one night off…”

“Honestly, it’s no imposition. There’s a reason every other President has been married, and it’s because this place is fucking _boring._ ” It’s the first time he swears in front of Oliver. Hell, it’s the first time he swears in front of _anyone_ since taking office.

“Sure. But you have to send someone out for better beer, because that’s disgusting.”

He _really_ wouldn’t have planned it any better. “Sure. What’s your pleasure?”

Oliver gulps and looks away, stumbling over some DC microbrewery, and Connor makes a call.

\- - -

They’re three episodes in when Oliver stretches, and Connor catches a glimpse of his stomach. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“No, just antsy.”

“Am I making you nervous?” Connor asks, as flirtatiously and suggestively as he can, since he’s a few months out of practice.

Oliver glances over. “Honestly, yes. You’re openly gay and clearly single, you’re painfully charming and it seems like you’ve made it a mission to make me fall for it and I don’t want to.”

Connor’s face falls. “Oh. I didn’t mean to-“

“You’re hitting on me because you’re bored and lonely and I get that, I do, but I’m not gonna get my heart broken when you realize that I’m just some huge IT nerd who has never even been _looked at_ by a man as attractive as you, let alone the _Presi-“_

Connor kisses him. He just leans over and goes for it. And it works for a moment, before Oliver pulls away, crying, “Did you hear _nothing_ I just said?!”

“Yeah, I heard a lot of bullshit about how you don’t think you’re incredibly fucking hot when I _assure_ you, you are, and how I’m just horny and bored and will tire of you and I’m telling you, that’s not true. I like you, actually, and-“

“ _Actually?_ ”

“Yeah. _Actually_. I _actually_ like someone when I’ve spent years just fucking around and not even getting names. Because I came here to focus on my career for once and then you walked in and, God, can you just _believe me_ when I say I’m crazy about you so I can keep kissing you?”

“This is a bad idea.”

“This is a _great_ idea, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Connor attaches himself to Oliver’s lips again, lowering his body so he’s lying on top of the other man. He can feel Oliver’s arousal on his thigh, and grinds down onto it. “Oliver… Please…” And fuck, even he’s surprised by how needy he sounds for this guy.

Then suddenly, Oliver’s hands are on his waist, and he’s flipping them over, pinning Connor beneath him and grinding down on him as he sucks a mark low on his neck. And it’s the hottest fucking thing Connor has ever experienced.

That is, until Oliver suddenly leans back on his haunches and pulls Connor’s pants down before taking his entire length into his mouth.

And yeah, Connor might be a little bit in love.

\- - -

“Mr. President, do you think the rumor about you having an affair with a CIA intern will impact your reelection?”

Connor laughs. “I should hope not, since he wasn’t an intern.”

The reporter grins like he has the story of the year. “So you admit to the affair?”

“I admit to meeting a CIA Agent and having a romantic entanglement with him while in office, yes, but I admit to no unsavory implications that it was in any way an abuse of power.”

“But you don’t see anything wrong with-“

“With meeting my husband while I was in office? Absolutely not.”

“The scandalous affair was with Oliver?”

Connor laughs. “Scandalous? We would watch ‘Survivor’ on DVR and eat pizza.” And fuck like rabbits, but that didn't need to be published in tomorrow's headlines.

“Well, Mr. President, I appreciate your honesty. I will be sure to clear up that rumor on the front page of the morning edition.”

“I thank you for that. If you’ll excuse me.” Connor walks away without waiting for an answer. Once he’s out of ear shot, he turns to a smiling Gibbins. “What?”

“Nothing, sir. You just kept him going for quite some time.”

Connor smirks. “I fucking _hate_ these galas. I’m going to go to the bathroom. Can you run interference? I can’t deal with another reporter right now.”

Gibbins nods, and escorts him to the restroom down the hall.

“It’s about damn time, I texted you ten minutes ago,” Connor looks up and sees Oliver leaning against the wall.

“Sorry, I couldn’t get away from that guy.”

“Stop talking and get over here.”

Oliver pulls him into one of the stalls and kisses him hard, immediately beginning to unfasten his belt buckle while Connor works on his. Oliver drops to his knees and pulls Connor’s pants down just enough to swallow around the head of his cock, pressing his tongue to the slit.

“God, you’re the best First Lady ever,” Connor moans, putting a hand on the back of Oliver’s head to guide him.

Oliver pulls away and Connor whines at the loss. “I hate when you call me that.”

“Fine, First Gentleman, whatever, just, _God._ ”

“I’m your _husband._ That’s _all._ ”

“Get up here, I need to kiss you.”

Oliver stands and Connor grabs his face in a filthy kiss, before pulling their hips together and rutting against him, hard and fast, moaning softly when their cocks brush with every snap of their hips. Oliver reaches a hand between them, wrapping around them both, and pulls hard, fast, and punishingly.

“ _Fuck_ Oliver, I…”

Oliver leans in close and whispers in his ear, “Come for me, baby. Come on, Connor. I wanna feel your come all over me.”

A broken sound that sounds like it's supposed to be Oliver's name pours from Connor's lips as he spends himself at the request; Oliver knows he has a bit of a kink for it, often requesting that his husband pull out and come on his belly or his back or his face. Hearing Oliver request it, too, is incredible.

Oliver keeps thrusting into the wetness between their bodies, before coming hard between them, and watching Oliver spill all over Connor’s dick and spent come is almost enough to make Connor hard again.

Instead, he drops to his knees and sucks as much of the mess off of Oliver’s cock as he can.

Once he’s satisfied, he stands to face Oliver, who grasps at his shoudlers and pulls him in, kissing him hard while he wipes Connor clean with his palm. He pulls away to lick their come off his fingers, staring Connor down intently. “ _Fuck,_ Ollie, how am I supposed to go out there with that image in my head?!”

Oliver shrugs. “Just making sure you don’t try to keep us out too late. I’d like to do this again. At home. Soon.”

Connor kisses him one last time while tucking himself into his pants, then pulls away and whispers, “I love you, _so much_ , okay?”

“Love you too. Now go get some campaign funds.”

**Author's Note:**

> I literally never intend to write smut and I have no idea where that come kink came from, but I'm gonna go with it. Oops.
> 
> ps you can find me on tumblr at oliver-walshs. =)


End file.
